Shadow of the Sun Ch. 11

"Sorry, Miss Helena!"

"Not to worry, sweetness." She guides me away from the desk and continues onward. I exhale in relief.

She didn't notice me grab the letter opener now hidden flush against my wrist.

While I'm no expert at sleight of hand, I'm competent enough to keep my left wrist angled toward my body so as to conceal the implement from any passing guards. My nudity—save for the anklet marked with Helena's crest, of course—certainly doesn't help matters, but it's become so blasé around the palace that nobody spares me a second glance. Nevertheless, my heartbeat quickens and my vision tunnels for fear of discovery until long after I've tucked the blade beneath a corner of Helena's mattress.

She removes my blindfold and takes me through our nightly routines, aided by several ladies-in-waiting: taking down and brushing my hair, bathing me and rubbing floral-scented oils into my skin, cooing and whispering praise to me all the while...I want to cry throughout. I'm not sure how I manage not to. A monstrous horror lurks just ahead, and I can't make out if it's who I already am or who I'll have to become by night's end.

Once Helena and I are both ready to sleep, she gives me several more kisses and then leaves me to lie at the foot of Her bed. Minutes pass. Hours, maybe. The rest of my life; I really can't be sure. I stare into the darkness, straining my eyes to catch a glimpse of nothing in particular. Behind me, I hear Helena's breathing grow soft and even. I wait for a thousand extra years just to make sure She's asleep, and then I slip off of the bed and onto my feet.

Lift the edge of the mattress. Grab what lies beneath. Two steps forward to the head of the bed. A plunging thrust down. Turn around, eleven steps forward. Listen at the door for the footsteps of the night guard. Once they grow sufficiently distant, slip out of the royal chambers, turn left, take eighteen steps, turn right, and shimmy into the dumbwaiter. Finagle the pulley from inside until it descends. Disembark into the servant passages. Take the route I've plotted, reconsidered, and debated inside my head for the last week. Exit out the back door of the kitchens and disappear into the darkness. That's the plan.

But I can't even bring myself to complete the first step. And this time, there's no magic, no tricks. Just the crushing weight of indecision.

What will Eshe think? Will they be shocked? Regret their decision to help me? Or will they merely feel disappointed?

They'll know I did what I had to. Besides, what do I care what they think of me?

My hand reaches out and rests on the corner of the mattress.

They put themself in danger to rescue me; took the difficult road of self-reflection even when it meant challenging everything they knew.

These are completely different circumstances. Besides, I'm no martyr. I survive, no matter what it takes. It's who I am.

My fingers slip between the mattress and the box spring.

I know where that path leads. It leads to bits of shattered glass reflecting Alice's shock and terror. It leads to Paolo's desperate pleas at the river's edge.

It leads to lying in bed, clinging to life in spite of your all-encompassing isolation and pain.

But at least it leads somewhere.

I grab the handle of the letter opener, pull it free, and take two steps forward to the head of the bed. The blade arcs downward in a plunging thrust.

I barely redirect it before it can meet Helena's neck. I can't kill Her. No, I won't kill Her. I choose not to have Her blood on my hands, consequences be damned.

Before I can turn away and stash my weapon, though, I notice Helena's silver necklace glowing bright orange.

I'm such a fucking idiot.

An overwhelming blast of shrieking sound sends me toppling to the floor, clutching my ears and curling into the fetal position. Distantly I recognize that it's all in my head, that the fires now licking at my skin lack any physical presence, but it feels real enough to make the distinction of little import. Helena bolts upright and kicks away Her bedsheets, fear in Her eyes as they dart about the room to assess the situation.

And then they land on me, and on the knife clutched in my hand by my spasming, unresponsive muscles.

"Vera?" Helena's voice is filled with confusion, disbelief, and hurt.

My teeth chatter far too violently for me to respond. Beyond the intense physical discomfort, primal fear rips apart any of my complex thoughts in a frenzied panic.

"How did..." Helena's eyes glow a similar orange as She stares straight through me. Whatever She finds makes Her recoil. "No! What did they do to you?"

She grips her necklace and dims the light within it. My nausea and disorientation fade slowly but surely as She picks me up and places me on the bed.

"Speak," the Queen commands, and a hint of Her sorcery presses on the edges of my consciousness. "Who did this?"

I lack the willpower to lie outright but muster enough to control the phrasing of my truths. At least I can try and protect Eshe, Francine, and Paolo. "Berinnist...sun-knight..."

Helena unleashes a furious wail loud enough to make Her night guards burst in through the door.

"Your Highness! Is everything alright?" One of them asks, their lantern illuminating the feral-looking Queen perched above me.

"Summon Berinni's delegation for an emergency meeting," She growls.

The guard knows better than to hesitate. "Yes, Your Highness!" They sprint away, barking rapid-fire orders to anyone in earshot.

"The nerve of that man, the fucking gall to think he could get away with this..." Helena holds onto my shoulders tightly, Her nails digging into my skin. I'm paralyzed with fear, waiting for the end to come in whatever form She decides it will take. "Assassins are one thing, but this? Turning my sweet Vera against me with that cult buffoonery they call sorcery? Unforgivable. It is abject cruelty; it is entirely a step too far."

I blink. Helena seems to have underestimated me one last time, viewing my changes as part of a broader Berinnist conspiracy rather than as my own doing. Not that it matters, really—either way, She'll erase me and bring Vera back.

Helena takes a few deep breaths, then lets go of me and idly brushes away the drops of blood drawn by Her vicious fingernails. I watch mutely as She lights the room's lanterns with a wave of Her hand and hurries about getting dressed, murmuring to Herself the entire time.

"Okay. This is fine; everything is fine. Berinni overplayed his hand, just like they always do. I can fix whatever damage his lackeys did to you, take advantage of his misstep, and everything will be fine." She whips back around to face me, now dressed in a tight-fitting purple gown with gold trim. Despite Her slightly disheveled state, She still radiates power and control.

"Eyes closed, sweetness."

I close my eyes involuntarily.

"This should only take a moment. We'll have time to fix you up into a proper, healthy little toy later, but until then I need to know you won't do any other silly things." She strides toward me. I instinctively bolt for the door in a blind panic.

"Be still," She commands. The words are laden with power and freeze my muscles in place. "Let Miss Helena fix you."

Deep breaths. Focus. I've resisted Her before, and I can do it again.

Though it feels like dragging myself through wet concrete, I'm able to thrash weakly and whimper "no" in spite of the spell upon me.

Helena's eyes narrow. "Fucking cultists. Fine; we'll do this the hard way."

She wraps Her fingers around my neck and begins to squeeze. "You are nothing without me, Veronica. Do you understand that?" Her eyes are wild now, the deep black pools of a woman losing control. "If it weren't for me, you'd still be the miserable bitch everyone hated. Everything you are is mine. Your morals, your decency, your compassion, all of it was created by me."

As the corners of my vision start to darken, Helena leans in close and whispers in my ear. "And without me, you'd go right back to being the way you were."

A moment later, I feel the intense pressure of Her 'love' once again as She begins channeling Her sorcery. The battle for my mind has begun—already I can sense Vera on the edges of my psyche pressing in.

I struggle fiercely against her, pouring everything I have into holding her at bay. But almost immediately, it becomes clear that I'll lose; the harder I fight, the stronger Vera seems to become.

Yet even as she threatens to seize control, I cannot bring myself to hate Vera. How could I? As much as I once would have loathed to admit it, she's not some invading entity overwriting my personality; she's a part of me and always has been. She is my love, trust, and kindness; she is everything I had to bury because I was afraid of being hurt. Helena is taking advantage of those feelings now just as Mother did so many years ago. But it's not Vera's fault now, and...and I suppose it wasn't my fault then.

If anything, the most abhorrent things I've done only came after I locked her away in a corner of my mind. Without Vera, I couldn't bring myself to forgive Alice for running away; without Vera, I put my own ambitions ahead of my and Paolo's feelings. Without Vera, I ruined countless lives for my own gain and felt no remorse. There are worse fates than letting her take control, I suppose. I only wish I could have stayed myself long enough to try and atone.

I stop struggling.

And to my surprise, so does Vera. Helena certainly isn't done—Her magic still pours into me—but when I stop fighting Vera, Vera stops fighting me. Without that fracture in my psyche, there's nothing more for Helena to push against; no two halves of me for Her to play against one another. The spell resolves as if it was successful.

But when I awake, I am the same me as before.

"Good. That will do," Helena sighs, then turns to the guard behind her. "Let's go. We're already late."

As the guard slings me over his shoulder and walks out into the corridor, I take stock of my surroundings. Some amount of time has clearly passed—moonlight spills in through the palace's many windows at a sharper angle than before, and more servants and guards are buzzing about. Preparing for Helena's 'emergency meeting,' no doubt. Despite having the element of surprise on my side, I'm unsure how to use it; this situation could quickly turn volatile in a number of ways. Best to wait and see.

My escort carries me along the familiar route from the royal chambers to the court, slipping into the semi-darkness of the dome through the backdoor and depositing me next to Helena's throne. The room looks much the same as it has throughout the negotiations, with an arc of chairs in front of the many rows of empty pews and desks. I'm the last to arrive—royalists and Berinnists alike already fill the seats. Francine pales when she sees my slack form but otherwise stays still. Paolo looks down at the floor. Eshe maintains a perfectly neutral expression, standing behind Berinni with a half-dozen other sun-knights.

"...exactly is this about?" the Duke drones, blinking owlishly. What little hair he has left sticks out at odd angles, and several of the medals on his chest are crooked. "Or must I remind you that those of us without sorcery need sleep?"

Helena's poise is too exact and sharp to be mistaken as natural, her voice too tight to fully conceal the danger lurking in each word. "I believe you know exactly why you are here, Berinni."

"Oh for goodness...why don't you remind me then, Your Majesty, instead of wasting my time." The Duke's impoliteness seems to come less from any negotiating tactic and more from his being grumpy. He's likely the only person here who's failed to recognize the tension in the air.

"Two hours ago, Vera attempted to kill me with a knife she'd hidden." The room goes absolutely silent. Francine's eyes practically bulge out of her head. Paolo shakes his head sadly. A pang of guilt hits me at his reaction. "One of the Knights of Sol Gloria ensorcelled her and forced her to do it."

Murmurs echo throughout the court as nobles and knights alike discuss the development—one that clearly surprises all of them to some extent.

"Oh come now," Berinni blusters. "A wizard made her do it? Don't be absurd. She already tried to kill you once. Besides, you keep her as a...as a sex object. Is it really so hard to believe she just snapped?"

Helena somehow sits even straighter, appearing to channel her raw anxiety and frustration into her posture. "Impossible. I have—I had complete control over her until you and your cohorts poisoned her thoughts."

Berinni rolls his eyes and turns to the older sun-knight beside him. "Knight-Captain Laviny, do you have any idea what she's talking about?"

"No." The Knight-Captain's voice is perfectly flat.

"Well, there you have it." Berinni throws his hands in the air. "What do you think is more likely: me sabotaging my frankly excellent negotiating position with an absurdly risky gambit, or your little pet liar acting out and taking you by surprise?"

Helena spits out a response through gnashing teeth, leaning forward on the edge of Her throne and balling Her fists. "You cannot lie your way out of this, Duke. I saw inside her mind; saw the sorcery your lackeys used to manipulate her. You will admit what you have done and..." A vein throbs in Her forehead as Her eyes flit back and forth between Berinni, the sun-knights, and me. "...and you will withdraw these cultists from Niol. Otherwise, I and my allies will walk away from all negotiations.

Seemingly satisfied with Her ultimatum, the Queen sits back and crosses Her arms. "And let's not waste our time pretending your rapidly dissolving 'coalition' of murderers and thieves can hold against the combined might of Arlunn."

The Duke scowls. "A moment, if you will." He turns and begins animatedly whispering to Laviny.

Across the arc, a number of royalist nobles nervously look over at Francine. She shakes her head almost imperceptibly, then stands. "I believe we should hold an investigation into this matter."

"No," Helena snaps. "There is no need. I am not allowing these snakes any opportunity to regroup."

"Perhaps we should not be so hasty, Your Highness."

"It is not your decision to make, Francine. You would do well to remember that." Helena's subtle warning is laced with venom.

The spymaster merely looks to the other royalist nobles one by one, and one by one each of them speaks.

"I...um, I agree with Lady Francine."

"As do I."

"And I."

"We should not proceed without knowing the facts."

"An investigation, yes. Definitely."

Francine looks to Duke Berinni. He sighs. "If we must."

Helena looks around the room at the various nobles, suddenly appearing very alone. The corners of Her mouth tighten with the fury of a tyrant who cannot get what she wants—fury I know all too well. The slightest provocation will set Her off now.

My provocation isn't very slight.

"You're nothing without them, Miss Helena. Without me."

The Sorceress-Queen gapes at me in fear and horror for several seconds, then jumps to Her feet and screams at Berinni.

"YOU BROKE HER! I WILL NOT LET YOU GET AWAY WITH THIS, YOU IGNORANT FOOL!"

The Duke snorts. "If anyone broke Veronica, Your Majesty, it was you—"

A wave of excruciating heat flies forth from Helena's outstretched hand toward Berinni. In the blink of an eye, he becomes a pile of greasy ash and bone atop a large charred portion of the floor. A bit of molten gold from one of his medals sparkles in the lanternlight.

For a moment, everyone is quiet and still as they try to process what happened.

And then chaos breaks loose.